"If the mind is to emerge unscathed from this relentless struggle with the unforeseen, two qualities are indispensable: first, an intellect that, even in the darkest hour, retains some glimmerings of the inner light which leads to truth; and second, the courage to follow this faint light wherever it may lead."
~ Carl von Clausewitz.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

"A revolution (from the Latin revolutio, "a turn around") is a fundamental change in power or organizational structures that takes place in a relatively short period of time."

Our country has a long history of struggles and revolutions. We might not have had the tea-parties of Boston, or blood-shedding upheavals as in Russia or France. But over the last 10 years, things have changed. We revolt for those negligible things that wouldn't change our everyday lives. A brief synopsis of our modern methods.

1. The Anna way - 10 years back, Anna stood for Rajnikanth and Anna Kournikova. Neither of them had much to revolt against. So the invention is credited to Hazare Sahab without any disclaimers. The method included snippets from of Anna Munna Bhai with Baba Ramdev playing circuit. Pick up a topic of choice, send across online petitions as a part of your MBA project. Poof! The revolt is on. Warning: Cost includes candle-lit marches.

2. Model Revolution - When grimacing scenes of India being trampled over the last 4 months became unbearable, we shut our eyes. Poonam Pandey decided to open them. Sadly, her disconcertingly undressed images were sent to the Indian dressing room at the beginning of the one-day series. If only, she had the tenacity to visit the English dressing room. A perfect method to revolt against any team that beats us.

P.S: A new one has started to create funds for KBC the Indian Hockey team that won at the Asian Championships.

3. Twitterevolution - I hate you (like I follow you). You don't like someone, here's the way to go.

a. Follow them on twitter.

b. Keep mentioning them till they follow you back.

c. Get their family, friends, neighbors to follow you.

d. Tell the world about he/she being the biggest dog/female dog.

eg: Chetan Bhagat, Raja Sen.

4. T-shirts:
a. "Being Human" - stands for ending the misery of the homeless out in the streets.

b. A true incident. "Hey, long time. Nice T-shirt of yours." friend: "I know, really cool na. Picked it up from that store across the street." "Btw, who's the guy on it?". Friend: "Some basketball player I guess." Grimaces.

P.P.S - And everyone cribs about the commies ruling the world.

“Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply; those who want to deny the world must have once embraced what they now set on fire.”

Thursday, September 15, 2011

“The essence of mathematics is not to make simple things complicated, but to make complicated things simple.” Growing up, my report cards in school consistently carried the same comments; "Good with vocabulary, Arithmetic. Needs to improve handwriting." For some strange reason, I had it in my head that if you were good at Math, your handwriting would be a disaster. But, somewhere down the line I developed a fear, rather a disregard for the subject of my choice. It began when I was in my fifth grade. A new Maths teacher had joined the staff and his surname could easily have been Mr. Torture. He would come in every day and get us to memorize the multiplication tables. If there was a mistake, we had to spend the rest of the hour on our knees. Later, the fear of punishment would strangle our thinking and we'd end up walking to the spot as soon as a question was asked. By the time I reached ninth grade, Maths was alike a chapter from Stephen King's novels. And then there was a change in tide. Our new Mathematics Teacher was an elderly professor, calm and composed. He would punish us if we fooled around during his classes, the chalk would fly right out of his hand and nail us on the forehead. But there was a certain beauty to the way he taught. He would stand in front of the board, break the top of the chalk and start writing on the blackboard. Every now and then, he'd whip out the handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wipe his face. Even now, that image appears clearly in front of my eyes. I never failed in Maths after that period(except for the one time during Engineering, which was clearly a case of the University failing to approve of my intelligence), and developed a new-founded interest for the subject. I would spend hours together solving differential and integration questions, although probability was a little hard to digest initially (playing cards helped me iron out those issues as well). A few days earlier, I was curious to read further about Ramanujan. About the inception of 1729 and the life of a man who devoted his life to the science. And today morning, the same Mathematics teacher called up. He had received my wedding invitation on Facebook and wanted to congratulate me. For him, I was just another student, one of the thousands that he taught during his career. On the other hand, he was the architect who resurrected algebra, geometry and calculus in me.

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About Me

"There is a legend about a bird that sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. Dying, it rises above its own agony to out-carol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of the great pain. … Or so says the legend." ~ Colleen McCullough